“But,” she hesitated, “if—if you had really loved anyone I do not think you could cease to love them because they had tired of you.”
“And you really think,” went on Ralph Webster with a ring of pain in his voice, and with his dark, searching eyes fixed on May’s fair face, “that if you had cared for anyone and found out they were unworthy, that you would not change?”
“I think love can not change,” answered May in a low tone, and Ralph Webster suppressed a sigh as she spoke.
“Perhaps not,” he said, slowly, but at this moment Aunt Eliza entered the room, and hurried up to him with her kind welcoming hand.
“My dear Ralph,” she said, “I did not know you were here, or I should have been down before.”
“I have been hearing all about Miss Kathleen Weir, the actress, Miss Eliza,” said May, smiling.
“Oh! my dear—well, it may be an old-fashioned prejudice, I dare say it is—but I do not like actresses,” sighed Miss Eliza.
“It’s all a matter of training,” said Ralph Webster; “fancy Aunt Eliza on the stage!”
“Oh, Ralph, how can you say such things?” said Miss Eliza, reproachfully.